


the tuesday effect

by dubberclick



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, eddie is a single dad, his son is named jacob, ill tag more once i write more chapters, its straight up crack but im tryina be serious with it, richie works at dairy queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 03:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20828837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubberclick/pseuds/dubberclick
Summary: "Thank you for stopping at Dairy Queen, lucky contestant #247! I am delighted to inform you that if you pick the right item off our menu, you will be rewarded one free combo on your purchase!""Huh, hold on a second. My supervisor just informed me that the contest is tomorrow! My gosh, I am deeply sorry. Only full price items for today! Unless you're looking at our hot dogs or parfaits, which are on sale every Tuesday!""Uh.. What?"





	the tuesday effect

**Author's Note:**

> i watched chap2 and i wanted stupid fluff. im having fun ok dont fucking call me out. yes i work at dairy queen and yes im abusing my experience to write this shit. come fucking at me.
> 
> also in case i dont end up writing more, ill share you my thoughts. richie is a 32yo nam vet and lives in a 1rm apt downtown with his fat goldfish named putz. he works at dq because it was one of the only jobs that got back to him (and we had a vet at our dq too. i liked him) and has been for 3 years. the ice cream doesnt help his pudge.
> 
> eddie is 35 and owns and runs a tattoo shop right across from richie's apartment, to neither of their knowledge (thank you google for showing me tattooed james). he was in an accident when racing to the hospital after hearing myra went into labor and has a permanent zigzag of scars on his chest and back when he slammed into a truck full of farming equipment and metal fence stakes. after that he and myra split and he got custody of jacob after she had a meltdown in the courtroom and deemed unable to parent a child.
> 
> have fun with my crack shit.

The drive-thru chime dings through the staff's headsets and a couple hands shoot up to answer, but Richie beats them to the punch.

"Thank you for stopping at Dairy Queen, lucky contestant #247! I am _ delighted _to inform you that if you pick the right item off our menu, you will be rewarded one free combo on your purchase!" He watches the grainy, black-n-white feed on a tiny monitor above the soda machine as only static of the fat little car's engine prattled on. Richie turned to meet the eyes of his co-workers and smiled wide. The newer recruits were staring at him with horror and the veterans rolled their eyes as they worked. 

Samuel "Spork" Fentold, the newest and most serious crew, looked especially shocked, staring with big black eyes, broom and dustpan abandoned in his grip. 

"_ Uh, what? _" Came over headset and Richie returned his attention to the box TV with a departing wink at Sammy. Richie threw on a confused face and stuck his hands to his hips.

"Huh, hold on a second. My supervisor just informed me that the contest is tomorrow! My gosh, I am deeply sorry. Only full price items for today! Unless you're looking at our hotdogs or parfaits, which are on sale every Tuesday!"

Alan "Crispy" Ponshoc, the kitchen staff, started cracking up and Richie quickly turned off drive before the laugh could be heard. Both Al and Sammy seeing that, instantly transformed into tornadoes. Sammy came swinging his broom and Alan damn near ate grease on his way to his knees, bent over and _ guffawing_. 

Sammy stuck the handle in his face- wide, mirthful eyes zigzagging between him and the drive-thru camera. "What are you doing!"

And Richie tried to look unaffected, but a smile couldn't be pulled from his face as Sammy wore one too, no matter how hard he tried to frown. It was like watching a holograph- tilt it one way and it smiles, tilt it the other and it frowns. Richie guesses he looks the same, but gives up and settles on a _ you caught me _ smile. Sadie the assistant manager and shift lead watches, but doesn't say anything, moving out of sight to take a front order.

"_What about senior discounts? You got those?" _ A younger voice speaks over the headset and both Richie and Sammy's eyes flick back to the screen. "_Knock it off _." Comes next, quieter, from the man who'd spoken before. Richie gives a pointed look to Al and Sammy before turning drive back on.

"I'll be sure to give you that at the window. So, what can I get you guys?" Richie asks, much to Sammy's horror. But the kid's still smiling, so Richie doesn't really care- especially when he can feel the tension built up over the day lift like sun peeking through the clouds.

"_That will not be necessary. I'd just like a small- _

_ medium, Dad! _

_ -small cookie dough blizzard, please." _

Richie taps the drive monitor awake and punches in the order, ignoring the spitfire next to him. He looks up and can't make out anything more than shadows in the car. Maybe a Toyota? Black, or dark. And it was a mom car, which made everything so much funnier. "Small cookie dough. Anything else? It's a big menu and I'm here 'till ten."

"_No thank you." _ Comes immediate and Richie sends the order, scooting past Sammy to the window. He still watches Richie and he shoos the kid off, seeing it get busy on the chill floor, blizzards and shakes being tossed here and there. A banana peel flies throughout the chaos but Richie doesn't really pay attention. Sammy only reluctantly leaves after giving Richie a last bewildered glare.

"$4.53 and I'll see you at the window." He opens the pay screen on the window monitor as the drive dings off and Richie sees the rest of the staff busy with work, but smiles on each of their faces. It makes the approaching awkwardness worth it.

He slides the window open when the hood of the black cars pulls into view and he leans on the counter, smile never left his face. The son is leaned forward to see around his dad, which of whom gave him a strange look. Richie only flashes his teeth and repeats the total and the man then got to work flipping through bills in his trifold wallet.

Richie looks at him. The man's would-be wide eyes were squished small in the resting frown drawn by his straight, blocky eyebrows. His clean shaven cheek was pulled between his teeth with a sharp crease of skin and his nose was a flat shot from bridge to tip. His dark hair was trimmed on the sides and neatly swept aside on top. He looked like he worked in a bank or a law office, pale and scrawny, but Richie wouldn't let that stop him. Especially with a face like that and no ring to be seen.

"You're funny, Mister." The boy said and Richie turned his attention to him next. He was heavy set and his wavy dark blond hair was tucked behind his ear to curl around his shoulder. His eyes seemed light brown, but Richie couldn't really tell by the way his smile scrunched his face. He glanced at his father when a disapproving look was sent his way, but turned back when the man handed Richie a crisp, barely bent $10. He pointed at the kid with the bill between his fingers as he clicked away at the screen.

"I sure hope so! It's one of my many redeeming qualities. I wanted to be a comedian when I was younger. Think I can still do it?" He asks, slotting the ten away when the register shoots open. He glances at both son and father when he robotically grabs up the change. The man's cheek is back in place and he looks infinitely less uncomfortable, but still sits stiff with his hands in his lap, wallet tucked away somewhere. The boy seems to ponder the question.

"Probably, if you were the opening act. Aren't you too old to work here anyways?" 

Alan, since the kitchen was right behind him, bust out a loud laugh at the same time the man turned to his son with alarm. "_Jacob! _" The kid's glee turns sheepish under's his father's eyes, but Richie closes the register with Alan's laughter filling his uncovered ear.

"Dang kid, I'm glad I didn't 'cause you'd put me out of business real fast." Richie says and holds out the change as the man turns and collects it. He continues on before the man can utter out an apology, "Hey, I got an idea. You write my lines and I'll take all the credit but you'll get a lifetime's supply of DQ."

"No way!" Jacob shoots back. His father looks caught in the crossfire, swiveling his head between the two. "_I'll _ take all the credit and _ you _ get the DQ."

His search for a witty response halts when Sadie comes and places a blizzard on the counter next to him. She makes sure her _ I'm gonna talk to you later _ look is gone when she steps into sight of the father and son but she had already gotten her point across. Her braided, bleached hair bounces on her back as she walks back to the chill floor.

"Speaking of DQ," Richie says, grabbing a few napkins and the cup and holding it out the tiny window. Just as the father barely touched the cup of ice cream, Richie dropped his hand and in turn, the cup. He _ relished _ in the momentary terror that crossed the man's face as he caught the blizzard and brought it back up, upside down, red spoon still proudly standing tall.

Richie righted the cup and the man let out a held breath as Jacob said, "Wow." Doe Eyes grabbed the cup with a laughably tight grip and Richie handed out the napkins right after, watching the man give the blizzard to his son and stash the napkins in the compartment between the front seats.

Richie waved and cleared the order as the man shifted into drive. "See ya around." The man nodded and Jacob waved back, saying goodbye. The father drove off with both hands properly on the wheel and a strange feeling settled in his gut.

"_You're a strange one, Rich." _Sadie said over headset and he laughed, closing the window. He tore off the receipt and tossed it then moved to pour himself a Pibb from the soda machine under the drive TV.

"_ You're tellin' me! _ " Sammy said, " _ Is that even actually allowed?" _

Richie drank with a smile and walked to the back, raising his hand to the talk button. "What, did I hear something? Kinda sounded like a Debbie Downer."

He didn't catch the rest of that conversation, busy thinking about Jacob and his father. The strange feeling settled, content to laze in his guts, but the rest of the shift took a good turn and Richie walked home at 10:45 under the streetlights with his hands stuffed away in his pockets and a certain air in his step.


End file.
